The Dainty Serpent
by bellabitchlestrangee
Summary: The strength and weakness of Narcissa Malfoy from Draco's point of view. Oneshot.


_**A/N:** I'm in the middle of too many story ideas at the moment to be doing this. But I thought about this and I've spent a good few days on it. This is Narcissa from Draco's point of view._

 _ **Disclaimer:** I own nothing recognisable._

* * *

He's one year old when she comes into his room in the middle of the night. She takes him from his crib and cradles him to her chest. She bounces him and shushes him needlessly. He's not the one crying.

Her tears fall from her eyes and dry on his onesie and she whispers comforting words into his white blonde hair. She promises that The Snake is gone. She promises to keep him safe.

Lucius comes up behind her and wraps his arms around the both of them. They stay like that until dawn.

He's four years old when he hears her crying in the night. The soft moaning at first that slowly works itself into a crescendo of _No Daddy! No, please! Lucius, Lucius!_ He lies awake listening to his Father whisper safety and protection to her softly and cradle her until she falls into another fitful nightmare.

He doesn't know what could possibly make his Mother cry so he gets up out of bed and finds them just how he thought he would. She's sat up, crying into his chest hysterically. He pushes the door open. "Why's Maman sad?"

She stops crying and they both look to him. His Father pats the bed, "Come here, son." Draco climbs his way onto the bed and cuddles into his Mother's lap.

He looks up at her and his chubby fingers reach up to stroke her cheek. "Why are you sad, Maman?" Tears are still falling down her cheek but she hugs him to her bosom.

"Just had a bad dream, darling."

She rocks him slowly for a few minutes before he's asleep again.

He's nine when they're in the drawing room. His Father sits in a high backed chair, a newspaper in his hands and a silken wind-hound dog laying at either side of his chair.

The man watches his son play with the dragon figurine on the carpet before the corners of his mouth turn up and he resumes his reading.

No one is talking so the room is filled with sounds that aren't listened to, like the crackling of the fire, the turning of a page, the occasional sniffing of one of the dogs, and the hammering of the rain on the windows outside.

One sound is heard.

 _Crash._

Draco looks up from the toy in his hands and both dogs prick there ears in the direction of the staircase outside the room. Lucius stands, leaves his paper disregarded on the chair and walks quickly in the direction of the of the door. Draco follows.

They climb the stairs, increasing their speed as they go. "Cissa?"

Draco copies his Father. "Maman?"

They find her in the small lounge on the first floor. She's on her knees, shaking, holding great shards of glass in her hands. Draco stops in the doorway and his eyes widen at the sight of blood. Lucius rushes to her, and bends to his knees at her side. There are tears on her cheeks and her eyes are wide and Draco hates the sight.

"What happened, Cissa? Your hands!" His Father holds his hand out for his Mother to drop the glass into them. Some of the pieces don't fall from her hands. They stay penetrated, marring the innocence of her porcelain skin. Blood drips from them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Sorry, Lucy. I'm sorry!" She apologises for something she can't control over and over again.

He hugs her to him and holds her until her breathing is calm again. "Dobby" he says aloud to the room and the elf apparates. "Fetch some Murtlap and a few hand towels." He turns back to the shaking woman in his arms. "It's alright. It's not your fault. No one's going to hurt you."

But she continues to cry into his shoulder. "Daddy told me not to be a stupid girl."

He's eleven years old and he's on the platform. His father has already helped him settle his trunk in a Slytherin compartment and now he's found his friends.

They're all chatting animatedly about Quidditch and Hogwarts and his parents are watching him. Lucius has that ever-so-slight smile on his face and Narcissa is beaming.

But the whistle of the train sounds for the last few stragglers to get on board and that radiant smile is wiped completely off her face. Draco turns to shake his Father's hand, the only affection he should be showing in public but when he turns to his Mother he sees terror in her eyes.

He'd expected a few tears but a smile and a sloppy kiss anyway, but not this horror stricken expression.

She frantically clutched at Lucius' robes. "No, he can't be going. He's too small, I can't leave him, my baby." She's terrified of being without him and Lucius draws her close to him.

"It's alright, Cissa. He's going to be fine at Hogwarts, you know that." They both looked down to the small boy in front of them.

He nodded. "It's true, Maman. I'll be okay. I'll write you and tell you what happens."

She bent down to his height and pulled him close to her, clutching on to his small frame. The hug was too tight and he was uncomfortable but he didn't mind if it made his Mother feel a bit better. She released him. "You be safe and good. And you right me every day, do you understand me, my darling?" She sighed heavily and stood.

Draco ran to his friends and climbed aboard the train. He followed the corridor until he found his compartment and sat down to look out the window at the families on the platform.

His Mother wasn't looking. She had her face buried in his Father's cloak, she was shaking and Draco wanted nothing more than to see her smile like she usually does.

He's fifteen when he finds his Mother asleep in her bedroom. She has swaddled herself in an old green Quidditch jersey that says Malfoy on the back.

Draco smiles because this is one of the few times he sees her without her hair done, without any make up or fancy dresses. But the smile is a sad one. Because there are tear tracks down her face and her brow is furrowed in her sleep.

He decides there is nothing in this world that is stronger than his Mother. He promises that although the snake is in their house, he'll keep her safe.

He's sixteen and they're everywhere. The Death Eaters seem to have swarmed the manor and they're everywhere. Men are celebrating the holidays as if this a normal Christmas party. But it's not.

It's not because, sitting by the fire, where stockings are supposed to be, is The Snake. The man himself. His appearance in Draco's home is disgusting and Draco is fighting with himself to be _The Master of the Manor._ His Father is wasting away in Azkaban so it's up to him.

It's up to a child to be a man.

But he can't. He can't do anything but stand and watch as the putrid men get closer to his Mother. They are standing over her, bringing her fingers to their disgusting lips. The Wolf is in front. Fenrir Greyback is stalking her up into a table and she's trying to keep her head up. He can see it. She's trying to stay afloat in the sea of evil that surrounds her.

He wants to go to her. To save her from the eyes of those disgusting men but he can't because she's ordered him to stay away from The Wolf.

He watches him stroking blood stained claws down her face and he wants it to end. He doesn't want to be scared any more. He doesn't want his Mother to be scared anymore.

He's eighteen and no one is safe. The war is part of him, he's not safe in his own head. His Father is a shell. The skeleton of the man he used to be, but his _Mother_. Narcissa Malfoy: The ever-impervious substance. The woman, who despite everything, gets up everyday and puts her mask on.

She is screaming for him. They both are. They are running through war, not caring for survival just for him, for Draco. They have no protection, no wand for defence but they aren't looking to defend, they're looking to live their last moments with each other.

The boy who lived and the snake that tried to kill him are fighting, and never has he witnessed anything so mesmerising or desperate or violent as this. And yet he does not watch. He clutches to his Mother's robes whilst his Father's arms surround them, grasping at the last few threads of salvation.

And the snake falls.

No explosion of violence, no magic involved at all. The snake falls, and for the first time, he looks like a man. And his Mother is sobbing. She shakes violently with her relief and terror and desperation.

He's eighteen and the war is over. Dead bodies line his path, the ones who don't have to live with what they've done, with what's been done to them. He watches his Mother cradle her sister. She wipes at her silent tears and brushes wild curls out of the woman's pretty face.

Such an innocent face. Angelic in it's never waking sleep. His Mother is cradling the body that has finally caught up to the dead woman inside.

He watches his Mother as she hugs the body to her, and closes her eyes in peace. In relief. She settles the woman back on the ground and stands. She comes to him and hugs him and he can feel the sagging of her tired muscles. He can feel the grime and filth on her skin that is left in the aftermath.

They breathe a heavy sigh and he wonders how they'll continue. He wonders how they'll survive when they are inches from death already.

He looks to the boy with black hair and the green eyes and the scar that will mark him forever and the boy looks back, and they smile. It's small and sad and a little bit broken, but it's a smile. And Narcissa notices and she breathes relief. She broke her promise, but The Snake is gone, the boy will keep her Draco safe.


End file.
